Justice Though the Heavens Fall
by Peachdreamsandperseus
Summary: At just thirty years old, Mary Crawley has already built up a reputation as one of the most ruthless junior barristers at the criminal bar. She's good at her job, brilliant in fact, but she wants more - Mary wants silk and she wants it now, but will an idealistic solicitor with a strong sense of justice make her see that maybe there's more to life? Modern!AU.
1. The Trouble With Law

_**A brand spanking new Modern!AU very much in the style of All's Fair in Love and Law (a bit) inspired by the BBC drama 'Silk' and my own experiences within the cut throat world that is the English legal system. No Matthew in this chapter, but he does make an appearance in the next one - I'm dealing with the barristers first! Enjoy and please let me know whether you think I should continue :)**_

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_"The trouble with law is lawyers"_  
**_Clarence Darrow_**

She'd fallen asleep at her desk again, making that the third night this week. She'd been reading a stack of documents relating to her next case - the latest brief having been handed to him just as she was on her way home. It seemed like a pretty straight forward case of GBH - easy enough to defend, but that hadn't stopped her from working on it all night, picking apart every single piece of evidence in an attempt to make a watertight case. It must have been the early hours when she'd dozed off, resting her head on her statute book and highlighter still clasped firmly between her fingers, only to wake when her phone vibrated violently next to her.

_Don't stay up too late - I know what you're like! I don't want you falling asleep on me when I come up on Saturday :) xxx_

The text had been sent well before midnight, but she presumed that she'd been too engrossed in her work to notice. It was from her youngest sister Sybil – a final year medical student at Edinburgh University – whom she missed dearly and looked forward to seeing whenever she was able to come down to London for the weekend. Despite everything her mother thought, a life at the criminal bar hadn't meant a complete sacrifice of her social life. "_Mary Josephine Crawley_," she could hear her voice in her head even to this day. _"You're thirty years old, it's about time you thought of settling down_!" It was no secret that she was desperate for grandchildren, and it frustrated her that Mary was the kind of woman to put her career first. She'd told her that she needed stability before she could even think about starting a family. She was ambitious - her dream to take silk by the time she was thirty-five. As a QC, she would be able to choose her own cases and take more time off. Her last serious relationship had ended just over a year ago – they hadn't really been together long, but her boyfriend had begun to drop hints that maybe he wanted to marry her - Little things like blatantly ogling the window displays of various jewellers when they were out together, asking her opinion on the kinds of diamonds she liked and what she'd always wanted her dream wedding to be like as a child whilst telling her the details of the nuptials of his friends from his university days. She thought she'd made her views on the matter pretty clear and, eventually, they sat down and had a 'serious' chat about...

...They split up three days later.

By now, it was almost seven in the morning and, looking pensively at the forensic report in front of her, Mary decides to walk away for about half an hour or so. Her head feels thick as though she has a hangover, her back aches from being sat in one place for too long and she's still dressed in the clothes she'd been to work in the previous day. With a groan, she stretches and runs a hand through her hair as she makes her way into the bathroom. The hot water of the shower works wonders - it sooths her muscles, and she thinks most clearly when she's submerged in water. She rehearses her entire submission in her head, making a mental note to scribble something down that could potentially prove useful. She never seems to switch off - the job consumes her, but she loves it. She hadn't put herself through three hellish years at University, some of the hardest she had ever known, racked up tens of thousands of pounds worth of debt, and fought tooth and claw to secure a pupillage and tenancy in chambers just to take an easy career route. She thrives off the adrenaline rush she gets when she's standing up in court, presenting her case to the judge and jury. It makes her feel good to know that she's doing some good in the world - defending the defenceless and giving a voice to the people.

Dressed in pyjama pants and an old hoodie, Mary pads into the kitchen and flicks on the kettle – her usual morning routine always begins with a strong cup of black coffee and Sky News on the telly as she runs over her notes one last time. After breakfast, she dresses - her suits for court slightly different to her everyday ones - and shoves her wig and gown into her bag. Everything was done methodically - such is the life of anyone in the legal profession. Everything has it's time and it's place, is done in a certain way, and living in a permanent state of organised chaos is almost inevitable.

But someone's got to do it…

**_-xxx-_**

At ten past nine, she finally arrives at the Crown Court, a very nervous looking man standing beside her, emptying his pockets as they go through security.

"Excuse me," he says with a lilting Irish accent. "Are you a barrister?"

Mary nods. "Yes."

"How will I find out where my barrister is?"

"Check the court listings. That should tell you everything you need. Do you know their name?" she asks – she sees the same faces almost all the time - it was easy to know who was who.

The man, about a year or two younger than her, nods and pulls a business card out of his pocket. "Err… a Miss Mary Crawley."

Mary looks back at him quizzically, not quite understanding what's going on. "I'm Mary Crawley, but I think there's been some sort of mistake. I'm not representing you," she picks up her belongings and begins to walk off - public transport was a nightmare and she's already running late so a cock up in the listings is the last thing she needs. The other man follows hot on her Louboutin-clad heels.

"Oh no, sorry, I should have said. I'm Tom Branson… Your pupil."

She'd completely forgotten about that, despite having been told about it about twenty times by her senior clerk. "Of course you are, sorry, it's been a bit of a hectic week." She looks at Tom - first impressions count a lot in this game h seems wide eyed and eager, perhaps a tad naïve. "Bit old to be a pupil, aren't you?" she asks, quirking an eyebrow at him – most are in their early twenties, fresh out of law school and without a clue as to how the real world actually works...

...she'd been like that once upon a time.

"It's a long story," Tom replies with a smirk.

"Well, we haven't got time for it now. We'll start of easy. Section twenty GBH, straight forward enough - not particularly interesting, but it'll give us time to go back to chambers and get you settled in there. Have you been yet?"

"Only for my interview. Everything else was done by phone."

"Fair enough. So, it was… Liverpool, where you studied?"

"Yes, miss," replies Tom. "Took the BPTC at Cardiff."

Mary smiles warily, not quite sure what to make of him yet. "You've travelled around a bit," she says. And don't call me miss, it's Mary... Have you got a wig and gown yet?"

Tom shakes his head as they step into the lift, taking a couple of heavy folders from her. "Do I need to get one?"

"Probably should… It's amazing just how much** looking** like you know what you're doing helps."

**_-xxx-_**

Branksome chambers were situated in the heart of London's legal district, a stone's throw from the Old Bailey. Inside, a dedicated team of clerks work round the clock arranging their barrister's diaries, cases, negotiating fees, and generally just ensuring everything ran smoothly. Heading up the team was Evelyn Napier, the senior clerk. He had just returned from a lunch meeting with a solicitor and held in his hand one of the biggest and most exciting briefs that he had seen in a long time.

"Miss Crawley, good result in court today I take it?" he asks, entering Mary's office.

Mary looks up from his laptop and nods. "Yes, it was rather. He got two and a half years. It was a long shot that he was ever going to get off with it, but it's a better outcome than I expected."

"Well done. I have another brief for you."

Mary sighs. "Evelyn, I'm already in court for the rest of the week. Can you not give it to Charlie Bryant or someone?"

Evelyn shakes his head. "No. It has to be you. Solicitor's request," he says.

Mary looks stunned. "Somebody's asked for** me**?"

"Don't look so shocked, Mary," he smiles. "You're making quite a name for yourself. It's a big case, huge in fact. You have a couple of weeks to prepare for it though and, win or lose, it will look excellent on your silk application in a few years time."

Mary's eyes light up at this. "What do I need to know?"

**_-xxx-_**

Richard Carlisle wasn't usually a tabloid reading man, but these were exceptional circumstances. He sits in his hotel room overlooking the spectacular Manhattan skyline, sipping coffee while a beautiful woman sleeps in his bed. The brief had been FedExed over to him in New York where he was spending a couple of weeks lecturing at the University Law School. The story was splashed all over the news back in Britain – the disappearance of an heir to a rather large shipping fortune, the imposter who turned up several years later to try and claim his inheritance and the body found on the grounds of a sprawling country estate. It was like something from one of those period dramas his ex-wife had been so fond of. Attached to the file is a note from his senior clerk

_Win this and I'm certain we'll be seeing Mr Justice Carlisle in no time... Quick hint: the Ice Maiden of Middle Temple is defending._

Carlisle smirks to himself - oh yes, he was glad he'd agreed to this. Winning such a high profile murder case such as this was perhaps a fast track ticket to the judiciary. And he would quite literally do anything to get there…

Unfortunately, the QC's moral compass is a little skewed compared to everyone else's.

In fact, he probably doesn't even have a moral compass at all.

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_**Next Chapter:**__Matthew can't stand this any longer - he loathes how self righteous barristers can be sometimes. They're a law unto themselves and this really is the last thing he needs right now. "They can't just fling some barrister at me five minutes before a hearing and expect to get the best possible outcome for our client. They'll just push in and take all the glory as per usual... the whole thing is a complete joke."_

_"Do excuse me," a haughty voice cuts in from behind and he turns to see the Ice Maiden of Middle Temple herself looking formidable in full court dress and her trademark piercing glare staring straight into his very soul. "I have a hearing to attend... and I wouldn't want to push in." _


	2. The Lady and the Lawyer

_**Thank you for all your reviews - they've encouraged me to continue. If there are any points of law/bits of terminology that you don't understand, let me know by leaving a review or PMing me - enjoy and let me know what you think :) x**_

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_"Putting on a gown and a wig on your head so helps. It's like superman coming out of the phone box." – **Martha Costello, Silk**_

As much as he loves London, Manchester will always be home – this is where he grew up, where he studied and Matthew Crawley is and always will be a northern boy at heart. It's rare that he gets to spend much time up here these days – work keeps him busy and he knows that that should be enough...

...but it isn't.

He wants more from his life than to just be sat behind a desk all day and to come home to an empty flat, meals of pasta and whatever happens to be in the fridge and catching up on the Great British Bake off (he's a surprisingly good baker – a hidden talent he'd discovered in his first year at University). At twenty-nine-years-old, Matthew has a desire to settle down and start a family in the coming years that does, however, not mean that he needs his mother to keep pestering him every five minutes.

"Have you heard from Reggie Swire's daughter recently?" Isobel asks over breakfast one morning.

Matthew rolls his eyes – Reggie Swire had been a friend of his late father's and the man responsible for developing his interest in the law. Reggie's daughter, Lavinia, was a few years younger than Matthew and they'd been something of a couple a while back.

"Yes, I have actually," he says as he stirs his tea. "She's doing very well and is engaged to someone she met at University."

"Oh," Isobel replies. "Well that's a pity... I hope she's happy but I did like her and I thought the two of you were good together."

"Mother!" he warns. "Please don't start that again. It was a long time ago..."

"But there must be **someone** you have your eye on."

Matthew sighs. "No, there isn't... and even if there was I wouldn't have the time to do anything about it."

Isobel smiles fondly at her son. "You work to hard sometimes," she says. "Have you got anything interesting going on at the moment?"

"You know I can't tell you," he smirks. "But what I will say is that it's looking to become a very high profile case and it could work wonders for my future if I get this right."

Isobel nods and the pair fall back into a comfortable silence as they finish off their breakfasts, making the most of the few hours they have left together before Matthew returns to London around lunchtime.

**_-xxx-_**

No matter how old she gets, Mary will always hate Monday mornings and even more so when she's had a truly fantastic weekend. It had been lovely to see Sybil again and the two sisters had wasted not a single moment of what little time they had together before the usual emotional goodbye at the station yesterday afternoon. It's almost as though she lives two different lives – professional and personal run parallel as far as Mary's concerned. She'll share a drink after work with colleagues but that's about it.

Coffee clutched firmly in hand, she knows this is going to be one hell of a day when she sees a rather sheepish looking Evelyn standing there outside her office with a brief clutched firmly in hand.

"What is it, where and when?" she asks.

"Assault, Crown Court... in an hour."

"An hour?! For god's sake Evelyn... you can't be serious?"

Evelyn sighs. "I'm sorry but the brief initially assigned is ill and he can't do it... everyone else is in court this morning and your con isn't until twelve."

"Who's the solicitor?"

"One of Carson's boys... don't look at me like that. It's a well known fact that Charles Carson would walk over hot coals for you and, deep down inside, you know you'd do the same for him."

Mary rolls her eyes and takes a sip of coffee – Evelyn has a point there. Carson and her father had been friends for a very long time and, despite being a solicitor, he'd always kept an eye on her from the day she'd first been called to the bar. "Fine, I'll do it... but he better have the bubonic plague or I'm going to give him something to be ill about."

Evelyn chuckles. "Now there's the Mary Crawley I know and love."

**_-xxx-_**

Matthew curses under his breath as he hangs up the phone.

"Everything alright?" the trainee accompanying him asks – Alfie is a smart lad, but he does ask some stupid questions sometimes.

Matthew shakes his head. "No, not really," he says. "The brief has food poisoning so they're sending someone else."

"But... surely that's better than it not going ahead at all?"

He checks his watch and shakes his head – they're due to start soon and there's still no sign of a brief. Matthew can't stand this any longer - he loathes how self righteous barristers can be sometimes. They're a law unto themselves and this really is the last thing he needs right now. "They can't just fling some barrister at me five minutes before a hearing and expect to get the best possible outcome for our client. They'll just push in and take all the glory as per usual... the whole thing is a complete joke."

"Do excuse me," a haughty voice cuts in from behind and he turns to see the Ice Maiden of Middle Temple herself looking formidable in full court dress and her trademark piercing glare staring straight into his very soul. "I have a hearing to attend... and I wouldn't want to push in."

They've never worked together before, but her reputation precedes her – she's the one they all talk about. She's one of the most formidable junior barristers working in London today and Mary Crawley takes no prisoners, going straight for the jugular on anything from criminal damage to the most violent of murders.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that, for you, this is probably some nice little earner before the main event in the Bailey later but, for me, this is my job..."

Mary laughs. "Nice little earner? About ninety pounds minus clerks fees, chambers rent, travel, tax, VAT which leaves about twelve pound fifty." She turns and flashes him a sarcastic smile. "I'll be careful not to spend it all at once."

He watches her as she walks along the hallway towards the courtroom – her hips swaying slightly, gown billowing around her and her head held high. Tom brushes past him and mouths a quick apology – he's not entirely sure what for, nor does he quite understand his pupil-mistress' attitude just yet and feels as though he has to say something on her behalf.

"You her pupil?" Matthew asks.

Tom nods. "I started a week ago."

"Then you're a braver man than I am."

**_-xxx-_**

The folder hits her desk with a light thud and she looks up to see Tom standing in front of her with a rather smug smile plastered across his face.

"What do you want Tom?" she asks. "I'm rather busy."

"I know," he replies. "Which is why I started going through the files on that big murder case."

"The Patrick Gordon one?"

Tom nods. "There are huge gaps in his CV and a visa application for Canada that ran out at least a year before he came back over here. I've tried cross-referencing it with credit card statements and stuff, but there's absolutely nothing... it's almost like he disappeared of the face of the earth."

"Then we need to see him. We need to get..."

"A VO? Done," he cuts in. "Thursday at one. Don't worry, I've checked your diary, you're out of court and I managed to get Evelyn to move your con on the burglary forward a few hours. You said that it was pretty straightforward so I didn't think you'd mind."

For what seems like the first time all day, Mary smiles genuinely. "I am impressed," she says. "Have you ever considered clerking?"

Tom chuckles. "No," he replies. "I prefer getting my hands dirty."

"Then you and I will do very well together." She shuts down her computer and slips her jacket on with a weary sigh. "Look, Tom... I'm sorry that I've not exactly been the easiest person to be around and I probably should have been a better mentor. Things are just... hectic, right now and for that I apologise."

Her pupil looks back at her, rather stunned by what she's just said. "Wow... do you think you could write that down?"

"Why?"

"Because apparently you never apologise to anyone."

"I only apologise when I know I'm in the wrong... which is hardly ever but, this time, I'm certain that I am. I know what it's like to be in your shoes and you're in for the hardest year of your life. I know how important it is to have a decent pupil-master seeing you through it."

"Was yours?" he asks. "Decent, I mean."

"He was at first... then he turned out to be an absolute bastard and, believe me, that's being polite."

Tom raises his eyebrows. "Why? What happened?"

Mary shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it... now, come on, I'll buy you a drink."

**_-xxx-_**

The small pub just off Middle Temple Lane is frequented by barristers and solicitors alike and is a hive of activity in the hours following the end of the working day. The pair find a small table close to the bar, getting to know each other a little more over a pint (or a glass of wine in Mary's case).

"So, why Middle Temple?" she asks. "Is it a family thing or did you do what most seem to do and just pick an Inn of Court at random."

"Random," replies Tom as he wipes some of the froth from his Guinness off his lip. "If I was doing the family thing, I should have gone for Lincolns. It's where my uncle was a member of."

"Is that how you got into law?"

"Sort of," he says. "I studied history and politics at Liverpool and tried my hand at journalism for a while after graduating. It didn't really work out and so I did the conversion course part-time whilst working for a paper down in Cardiff before staying on there to study the BPTC."

"My sister's a journalist," Mary tells him. "She writes for the Guardian and a few more obscure publications."

Tom ponders this for a moment. "Not Edith Crawley who writes for the arts and culture segment?"

"One and the same."

"Ahh... no, she's good, I like her style."

Mary smiles. "We didn't get on at all growing up," she says. "But she can get me invited to all sorts of celebrity parties and such these days so I suppose she does have her uses."

"My father was a journalist," Tom continues. "I suppose that's why I thought I should give it a go, especially after he died."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

Tom shakes his head. "Shot during the troubles in Northern Ireland. We lived in Dublin where he worked at one of the national papers where he was a political writer. They sent him up there to cover a story... wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing."

"Oh... I'm sorry."

"No, don't be... shit happens," he half laughs. "My uncle, the barrister, worked on a lot of cases involving the IRA up in Belfast after he moved to the north after getting married. I went to court a few times and watched him... he was pretty good. So, enough about me and my woes... what about you?"

"I did the family tradition thing," she says. "My father's a barrister and my great grandfather was a solicitor. Law's in my blood I suppose."

"Can I ask a question?"

"If you must."

"That solicitor this morning was called Crawley... are you two related?"

Mary shrugs. "I don't know," she replies. "But with the amount of inbreeding that went on among the aristocracy, I really wouldn't be surprised."

Tom chokes on his pint. "I'm sorry... did you say **aristocracy**?"

"Yes... my great grandfather was the Earl of Grantham but, as I say, he was a solicitor before that. Anyway, through a series of rather complicated and somewhat dull series of events, he discovered that he was the heir to the title and the estate, married his own cousin and inherited a few years before the outbreak of the Second World War."

"So you're **Lady **Mary Crawley or something like that?"

"No," she replies as she shakes her head. "My grandfather was the youngest of his two sons and therefore had no title."

"Right," Tom says, not entirely sure that he's following. "I'll be honest with you, I wasn't very nice about the English aristocracy in my dissertation."

"What was it about?"

"The war of independence."

"Sounds... interesting."

"You couldn't care less, could you?"

"No," she replies bluntly. "But what I do care about is that my glass is empty and I do believe it's your round."

**_-xxx-_**

They return to chambers from court the following afternoon to find themselves swimming in a sea of solicitors. Mary had forgotten that Evelyn had organised this.

"Touting party," she tells Tom before he can even ask. "Basically, Evelyn invites solicitors to chambers, plies them with alcohol and tries to bring in some business so go, network and be charming... try and get them to like you."

"I'm Irish," he smiles. "Charm I can do."

"Your new pupil I take it?" a very familiar voice says. Mary turns and smiles as she sees an old family friend standing behind her.

"Mr Carson!" she exclaims as she embraces him, still referring to him in the same rather formal manner as she has done since she was a little girl. "How wonderful to see you again."

"It's been far too long," he says.

Mary furrows her brow. "What are you looking at?" she says and glances over her shoulder to follow his line of sight, rolling her eyes when she sees Tom and a young blonde man that she doesn't recognise flirting outrageously with a couple of the junior clerks.

"Not quite what I meant when I told him to be charming."

Carson chuckles. "Between your pupil and my new trainee, I think there are going to be several hearts aflutter in chambers."

"That's your new trainee?"

Carson nods. "Jimmy Kent," he says. "Graduated from Durham, studied the LPC at the College of Law here in London and started with us a couple of months ago."

"Well he's good looking, I'll certainly give you that. That Alfie boy seems nice and terribly clever and all, but he does look like a puppy that's been rescued from a puddle."

"Speaking of Alfie," Carson says. "I believe he and Mr Crawley were in court with you this morning. Thank you for doing that."

Mary quirks an eyebrow at him. "I only did it because it was you who asked," she says with a smirk. "If it had been anyone else they I would have told them to stick it where the sun don't shine."

"Matthew was impressed with you," he says. "Hasn't stopped talking about you all day."

"He was rather rude about me, actually... well, not me personally but my entire profession."

"Well you'll have plenty of time to have him make it up to you. He's the solicitor working on the Patrick Gordon case with you."

Mary forces a smile and reaches for a glass of wine, catching sight of Matthew Crawley's annoyingly handsome face across the room.

"_Well isn't that just bloody marvellous?_"

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_**Next Chapter: **His voice is low and seductive and she can feel his warm breath on her neck as he stands behind her, trapping her between his body and the bookshelf._

_"You play your game and we play ours... I don't know about you, but I have rules about this sort of thing."_

_Matthew chuckles. "Well isn't that what law is about? Breaking rules to make new ones? You and I would both be out of a job if that weren't the case."_

_Her breath hitches as his hand comes to rest on her hip. "Screw this," she thinks to herself as an overwhelming feeling of lust consumes her entire body. "Actually, on second thoughts... screw **him**."_


	3. A Wild Nobility

_**Thank you so much for the incredible response to the last chapter. For two things, I am sorry 1) for the delay in updating and 2) for not replying to all of your reviews - I've been in court all week and haven't really had much chance to do anything other than Uni work when I've come home. I hope the ending of this chapter makes up for it as things begin to get a little... well, I'll leave you to find out. Enjoy and please let me know what you thing :) x **_

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_"A new royal family  
A wild nobility  
We are the family."  
**Kings of the Wild Frontier – Adam and the Ants**_

"I didn't think I could ever be more confused about this case," Tom says as they leave the prison. "But now... please tell me you're just as lost as I am."

Mary nods. "I just don't understand why he's being so defensive. I wish he'd realise that we're on his side."

"Are they all like this?"

"No," she replies, shaking her head. "But you also need to be careful of those who are the complete opposite and tell you far too much."

"We all have secrets," Tom says. "It just depends on how good you are at keeping them."

"Yes," Mary agrees as she climbs into the car. "I think that's exactly what it is."

**_-xxx-_**

It's that time of the month again.

No, not **that** time, but it's every bit as unpleasant. Ever since her mother learnt how to send an email, Mary rarely finds herself communicating with her any other way these days and her summons come late one Wednesday for her to attend a monthly Sunday lunch with her family. That weekend, she takes a taxi across the city to her parent's home in Kensington, a bottle of wine clutched firmly in hand as she knows she's going to need it if she's to make it out of this alive. She hates these things – they'd started the year that Mary had first gone up to Cambridge and had been her mother's way of keeping an eye on her wayward eldest daughter knowing that, what with the phase she had been going through at that age, she would have most likely flown off the handle if she hadn't.

Cora is there to greet her at the door. "Oh my darling," she smiles. "How are you?"

"Good, I suppose," replies Mary. "Tired, stressed, incredibly busy... the usual."

Cora sighs. "You work far too hard sometimes. Oh and, by the way, your grandmother's here."

"Wonderful..."

"Be nice!"

Mary puts on her warmest smile as she enters the living room and is pulled into a hug by her grandmother.

"Mary, dear," she says. "You're getting far too skinny. Have you found yourself a nice young man yet? There can't be a shortage of them in your line of work."

Mary arches an immaculately shaped eyebrow. "Hello, Granny... No, I haven't, why do you ask?"

"Because he will take you out to dinner and make sure that you're eating properly."

She forces another smile and resists the urge to groan. "I'm fine, really... as I said to Mama, I'm just incredibly busy."

Her grandmother gives her **that **look and sighs. "Well just make sure you take some time for yourself. You're thirty years old... the clock's ticking."

Mary smirks. "If this is about babies then women are having them when they're much older and even without the need for men these days."

"I don't think I want to know."

"Well you needn't worry about any of that," Edith pipes up as she enters the room. "Mary doesn't have a maternal bone in her body and you know that nothing is more important to her than her precious career."

"Hello to you too," she replies. "And anyway, at least I have a career... what is it that you do again exactly?"

Edith goes to retort but her answer is blocked as Violet intervenes. "Now now, girls, save it for the after dinner entertainment. Right now, I'm curious as to what... **delightful**... concoction your father has put together this time."

**_-xxx-_**

Every time she meets Mary's eyes across the table, Edith stabs her food a little more viciously and, not for the first time, both sisters find themselves lamenting the absence of Sybil and wishing that she could be here to play peacekeeper.

"So, Papa," Mary begins in a desperate attempt to dispel some of the tension. "How are things with you?"

Robert nods. "Very good, actually," he says. "Court's keeping me busy but I don't mind. I've had one or two appearing before me that will be strong contenders for silk in a couple of years time."

Knowing just how much her eldest daughter aspires to become a QC, Cora looks up at Mary and sees the grip on her fork tighten.

"Did you hear that I'm acting as counsel on the Patrick Gordon case?"

"The which?"

"Patrick Gordon... the shipping heir?"

Robert shakes his head. "No... can't say I've heard anything of it."

Mary sighs. "Oh really, Papa," she says. "You must have. All of Middle Temple is buzzing about it. Clerks were fighting tooth and claw for that brief and yet the solicitor specifically asked for **me**!"

"Congratulations, darling," Cora smiles.

Robert still looks perplexed. "No, still doesn't ring a bell... Anyway, as I was saying, there's this one particularly outstanding young chap..."

She tunes out her father's voice and stares down at the table. He always does this – he always knows how to make her feel so small and inadequate, just because of one or two tiny indiscretions during a misspent youth. How could he not notice how much she's changed since then? Why did he find it impossible to see beyond that spoiled little girl and accept her for the woman that she has become?

"_Typical judge_," Mary thinks to herself. "_So set in his ways he's turning to stone_."

**_-xxx-_**

Mary opens the fridge door with a frown – she can't remember the last time she went shopping but she had been convinced there were a couple of beers left over from the last time Sybil had visited.

"I'll just go over to Sainsbury's and get something," she says. "Any preferences?"

Tom shakes his head, not even looking up from the list of previous convictions against their next client. "No... I'll go if you want, I don't mind."

"No, I need to stay here and make a start on going through that CCTV footage. It's alright," she adds with a smirk. "I trust you not to steal anything."

"You obviously didn't know me as a boy."

"I hope that, for both our sakes, that was a poor attempt at a joke!"

Tom laughs as she leaves and makes himself comfortable on the sofa with her Macbook balanced on his lap. It's been a hell of a long day and he's just starting to doze off when a very loud vinyl quality recording of David Bowie's '_All the Young Dudes_' wakes him with a start. He's obviously not alone in Mary's flat like he thought he had been – a fact confirmed when a young woman strolls into the kitchen singing to herself (she's not bad, albeit slightly out of tune) and wearing nothing but a towel.

Tom coughs loudly as she bends down to retrieve something from the cupboard under the sink, alerting her to his presence and stopping her from revealing more of her body than he's already seen.

She screams and almost drops the glass she's holding – managing to catch it with lightning quick reflexes.

"Don't do that!" she exclaims, bringing her free hand up to rest against her chest as she tries to control her breathing.

"Me?!" he replies. "You're the one who appeared out of nowhere, scantily clad and nearly giving a poor bloke a heart attack."

Her cheeks flush an incredibly pretty shade of pink as she realises that she is in fact practically naked in front of a man she's never met before. "So what are you then?" she asks, spotting the copy of Archbold on the coffee table beside him. "An educated burglar?"

Tom chuckles. "No, I'm a barrister... or at least I aspire to be if I can make it through this year."

"Well I think it's a fine ambition," she smiles back at him and he swears he feels his heart skip a beat or two.

"Ambition or dream?"

She's about to reply when the scratching of keys in the lock to the front door lets them both know that Mary's back from the supermarket.

"I see you've met my sister then?" she asks as she catches sight of a flash of towel and sopping wet curls dart back in the direction of the bedroom and her pupil staring wistfully with a look of pure lust on his face.

"The youngest, I take it?"

"Sybil," Mary nods. "She can be a little... eccentric... at times but even saying that doesn't do it justice."

"I liked her."

"A little too much, it seems," she replies, shooting him a look that she only ever uses when she's cross-examining witnesses.

"Would I be right in saying that my learned friend is warning me to stay away from her sister?"

"Yes," Mary replies bluntly. "Indeed she is."

**_-xxx-_**

It's about eight in the evening and she's still in chambers, locked away in her office while almost everyone else has gone home. It's on nights like this is that Mary really lets her guard down – she's slipped off her tights and pulled the pins keeping her hair in a rather demure French twist, letting her chestnut waves fall around her shoulders. She's sitting in the chair behind her desk with her legs tucked underneath her, reading an article on the forthcoming amendments to the Bail Act as she awaits the arrival of the papers Carson said he'd get sent over to her.

She looks up as she hears a gentle tapping on the door and is pleasantly surprised to see none other than Matthew Crawley standing there in front of her. Truth be told, she's warmed to him in recent weeks and she's decided they actually make quite a good team.

"Personal service?" she smiles. "Either you're in trouble and this is your punishment or I'm suddenly incredibly important."

"I suspect it's somewhere in the middle," he says. "I failed to get bail for one of my clients and he's been remanded in custody... he's not very happy with me."

"You win some, you lose some," Mary says.

"Only a barrister could be so blasé about these things."

"Do I smell gingerbread lattes?" she asks, completely changing the subject.

"Oh, err... yes," Matthew says as he glances down at the Starbucks carrier bag in his hand. "I remembered you saying last week how they were one of your favourite things about this time of year and, when I was on my way over here, I thought it would be a nice idea considering you're going to be here for a while."

"You're a darling," she says, the words pouring out of her mouth before she can even give them a second thought. "I saw you in court today," she says, quickly changing the subject once more. "Though I suspect it was before you lost that bail application because you seemed rather confident to me."

"What were **you** doing in the Magistrates court?"

"You speak as if it's beneath me," she retorts. "Am I not allowed to come down and inspect the competition once in a while? Your lot will be putting us out of a job soon what with all these higher rights. No, if you must know, one of my former clients was up for a section forty-seven. I on;y got him acquitted of burglary last week the ungrateful little shit."

Matthew chuckles at her use of such language. "As most of them in our line of work so often are," he replies.

Mary smiles and takes a sip of her coffee. "You know, you really are quite a good advocate. I like a man who knows what he's doing with his tongue."

"Well, I've never had any complaints," he replies with a rather devilish smirk. This isn't the first time their conversations have taken a flirtatious turn – there's an undeniable attraction between the pair that's been bubbling beneath the surface for a couple of weeks now and it's only a matter of time before it boils over. For now though, they are both just toying with one another, each pushing the other to see who cracks first. "Though I suspect that, when it comes to oral skills," he adds. "Yours are rather... impressive."

Mary shrugs dramatically, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself giggling like a schoolgirl. "Some of those submissions can be a bit of a mouthful but, what can I say, I've had an awful lot of practise."

He watches her as she stands up and practically glides towards the bookshelves on the other side of the room, returning the copy of Halsbury's Laws to its rightful place – he's always known that she's beautiful, but seeing her so relaxed and natural like this sets his pulse racing. "You must really hate these long hours... How on earth do you cope not knowing exactly where you're going to be and when all the time?"

"Believe me, I'm incredibly flexible."

The next thing she knows, he's standing right behind her. "Mary... when was the last time you took some time for yourself?"

She rolls her eyes – what is it with people and asking her that question lately? "I can't remember," she says.

"Then let me take you out to dinner... drinks even. Just... something." His voice is low and seductive and she can feel his warm breath on her neck as he stands behind her, trapping her between his body and the bookshelf.

Mary shakes her head and turns to face him. "No... I don't mix business with pleasure, especially not with solicitors," she replies, mentally chastising herself as she realises how bitchy that must have sounded."You play your game and we play ours... I don't know about you, but I have rules about this sort of thing."

Matthew chuckles. "Well isn't that what law is about? Breaking rules to make new ones? You and I would both be out of a job if that weren't the case."

Her breath hitches as his hand comes to rest on her hip. "_Screw this_," she thinks to herself as an overwhelming feeling of lust consumes her entire body. "_Actually, on second thoughts... screw **him**_."

In the end, she's the one who cracks first, pulling him forcefully towards her by the lapels of his jacket, her arms then snaking up around his neck, fingers raking through his hair as she leans in to kiss him. He meets her lips with equal fervour and it's a glorious clash of teeth and tongues that's enough to make both of them forget who and where they are just for this moment. He groans as he slides a hand underneath her dress, caressing the smooth skin of her bare thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around his hip and she moans his name as he bucks wantonly against her...

Yes... perhaps it is about time she had some fun.

* * *

_**Next Chapter: **"My father's a judge," she says. "You have no idea how much pressure that puts me under. I went into law to try and make him happy, to make him proud of me... I was such a disappointment when I was younger that I just couldn't bare it anymore and knew that I had to do something to make it better. I've been so focused on working towards getting silk that this job is beginning to consume me... I don't have many friends, I can't remember the last time I showed interest in a man and that worked for me... then I met you and you've changed all that. I'm so confused, Matthew... **you** confuse me and I honestly don't know what to think or do anymore."_


	4. Love, Lust and the Things Inbetween

_**I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this - things have been so manic and stressful of late that I really haven't had much time for writing anything other than one off ficlets. I hope you're still with me and I wish I had a better chapter for you but this is important to what happens next. Enjoy and let me know what you think :) x**_

* * *

"_Love begins with an image; lust with a sensation_."

**_Mason Cooley_**

She's been unintentionally avoiding him since their little tryst in her office more than a week ago and it's beginning tout a strain on their professional relationship. They'll speak to each other only when they have to and he keeps inviting her out for drinks or dinner, but she's always conveniently busy. They can't carry on like this – it isn't fair to their clients, their colleagues or themselves and she sits staring at her phone as she tries to think of a way to make it up to him."Mary, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

She snaps her head up and looks at her mother. "Sorry, I was miles away," she apologises. "What were you saying?"

"That your father's inviting Sir Anthony Strallen over to dinner this weekend and he expects you to be there."

"Oh, Mama," she groans. "Must I? You know how busy I am and..."

"Mary!" Cora interrupts sternly. "This is important for him and for you too if you make the right impression. Besides, we've invited Henry Crowborough's son, you remember him don't you?"

"Don't get your hopes up," Mary retorts. "I'm seeing someone." She doesn't know why she said it, but the words are out of her mouth before she can even think about them.

"Really?" Cora asks, the hint of a smile on her lips. "You never said anything. Who is he?"

Mary swallows hard as the pressure mounts. "He... he's a solicitor... and his name is Matthew."

"Then you **must** bring him to dinner."

"_Great_," she thinks to herself, knowing that she's really in trouble.

**_-xxx-_**

Matthew flops down on the sofa with a weary sigh – it's been one hell of a day and the only thing he really wants to do is catch up on '_the Hour_' whilst eating a rather questionable looking korma ready meal that he picked up from the shop on his way home, shower and get a good night's sleep. He panics when his phone starts ringing, thinking that a call from her at this time of night can only mean that she wants him for something and that his presence is immediately required.

As it turns out, he's half right.

"_I need a favour_," she says, almost shyly which is strange because if there's one thing Mary Crawley isn't then it's shy. "_And I also need to make things up to you_."  
"Go on," he says, slamming the door shut on his temperamental microwave.

She sighs and he can hear her tapping her immaculately manicured nails against a glass. "_I may have told my mother a little white lie and now I need you to come to dinner with my family on Saturday_."

"Mary, I..."

"_Please_," she cuts in. "_Only if you're not doing anything that is. Oh, just ignore me, I'm being ridiculous. Forget I said anything_..."

"Why?" he asks with a smirk. "Don't you want me?"

There's an awkward silence as she tries to figure out how to answer that question, the pair of them remembering the last time they had found themselves wanting each other and what had happened when they had finally given in to that temptation.

"I'm not busy, no," he says eventually. "But you owe me big time."

"_I know I do_," she replies and he can hear the relief in her voice. "_I don't intend for us to be there long. We'll stay for the food and make a quick escape. The drinks are on me_."

"Well, if I hadn't already said yes then that most certainly would have convinced me."

Mary laughs. "_You're a darling, do you know that? Oh and, just so you know, it's a black tie affair and Sir Anthony Strallen's going to be there_."

"As in the Court of Appeal judge?"

"_One and the same_," she says. "_And he's frightfully dull so just be warned_..."

******_-xxx-_**

He quite literally does a double take as she answers the door to him - she looks stunning in a red twenties-inspired dress that's both delicately feminine and incredibly alluring at the same time.

"Don't you scrub up well?" she asks with as smile, her eyes roaming his body almost hungrily (he knows all about her weakness for men in tuxedos - it was a confession made over cups of tea when they'd been working late one night).

"You look beautiful," Matthew says and leans in to kiss her cheek. "I wasn't sure if I needed to bring anything so I just picked this up on my way over."

Mary shakes her head as she takes the bottle of wine from him. "It's fine, but I wouldn't say no to a glass now. Want one?"

"Why, will I need it when the time comes for me to meet your family?"

"No," she replies and for a moment he thinks he's offended her. "You'll be in need of hard liquor after an evening with my family," she says with a smirk, reaching up on her tiptoes to get a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard in the kitchen.

Matthew chuckles. "So what exactly have you told them about me... us?"

"Well, like every good lawyer, I started with the facts. I told them that you were born and raised just outside of Manchester which is where you studied at University. You moved to London after finishing your LPC where you'd secured a training contract working for Charlie Carson... that's how we met. I've told them you're not officially my boyfriend yet so, with any luck, they won't pester you about when we're getting married or having babies but you never know when my grandmother gets involved and..."

"Mary," he interrupts. "Slow down and breathe."

"Sorry," she apologises and takes a rather large sip of wine. "These things just stress me out a little, that's all."

"I'll be fine," he replies. "Besides, you said that we're not going to be there long so all we have to do is make it through dinner... So, where did we go on our first date?"

******_-xxx-_**

Edith catches her sister staring at her disapprovingly.

"What?" she snaps.

"Nothing," Mary replies. "I just can't believe that you're going after Sir Anthony Strallen of all people. I thought even **you **had standards."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

She sets down her empty glass and looks over Edith's shoulder at the judge who is now deep in conversation with their father. "I've found more excitement in sitting and watching paint dry. It's not often I say this, but you could do so much better..."

Edith rolls her eyes - a Crawley family trait it seems. "Well forgive me if I don't accept relationship advice from someone with a past as sordid as yours," she says harshly. "Does this one know what he's getting himself into? Or have you kept your dirty little secret from him?"

"It's really none of your business."

"What would he do if he found out?" she asks. "Would he stay with you or would he run for the hills? It could be interesting..."

"Don't you **dare**!" she feels Matthew's hand on her shoulder just as she's about to give her sister a piece of her mind.

He squeezes gently, finding the role of the doting boyfriend an easy one to play. "Everything alright?" he asks and Edith immediately excuses herself.

"I'm sorry about that," Mary apologises. "It would seem that Hurricane Edith has hit land again. She goes through phases where she absolutely hates my guts and nobody is quite sure why... I think it's a hangover from when we were younger."

Matthew chuckles and offers her his arm as dinner is announced. "It's times like this I'm glad I'm an only child."

**_-xxx-_**

They make their escape just after ten and decide that it would probably be quicker to walk to the nearest Tube station than it would be to try and get a cab back at this time of night. They'd spent much of the evening completely lost in each other, forgetting that there were other people and on several occasions having to be spoken to several times before they heard the question being asked of them. She's amazed at how wonderful and natural it had felt to be around him like this and how it hadn't felt like they were pretending in the slightest.

"You're different tonight," he says, smiling as she clutches on to his arm to try and keep warm. "More relaxed... I like it."

"I feel much better now," Mary replies. "And I can't apologise enough about Edith. As I said, she gets like that. I wish Sybil had come down, she would have made you feel more than welcome."

"It's fine, really," he replies. "Now, come on, you owe me a drink remember?"

Mary smiles. "I know just the place. I haven't been there in years, but I feel like doing something different..."

******_-xxx-_**

**** "It's like the outer circle of Dante's inferno," Matthew complains as they walk into the club - if there's one thing he hates more than anything it's dubstep, purely because of the students who live in the flat above him seem to play it constantly day and night. "We're too old for this."

"Speak for yourself," Mary laughs, reaching up to undo his bowtie and the first couple of buttons on his shirt. "Loosen up and have a drink!" She turns her back on him with a flick of her hair having pulled it out of its elaborate updo so that it cascades down her back in loose waves. He wonders if she knows that all eyes are upon her as she pushes her way towards the bar and it inflates his ego slightly to know that, just for tonight, she's completely his.

They find a table in a secluded corner, huddled together so that they can hear one another over the thumping bass.

"Dance with me," she says, downing the last of her drink. "Please."

Matthew sighs and, getting to his feet, holds out his hand to her. "Fine."

Her fingers curl around his as she drags him onto the crowded dancefloor, their bodies pushed close together in a way that means she can't help but grind against him as they dance - if you can really call it dancing. Labrinth's '_Earthquake_' is another of those songs that he can't stand but is on his iPod nonetheless as part of some random playlist that he only ever listens to in the gym. Her arms snake up his chest to wrap around his shoulders, slender fingers toying with the sweat-soaked hair at the nape of his neck and leaning in so that her forehead rests against his. Her scent is an intoxicating mix of Disorano and Chanel number five and the feel of her body beneath his hands as she sways her hips makes his heart skip a beat. It's there again - that tension and temptation - and it's unclear who makes the first move, but it doesn't really matter as their lips meet somewhere in the middle and, not for the first time that night, they completely forget where they are. It's just him and her floating in a sea of partygoers...

"Do you want to go?" he says, the feeling of his warm breath against her skin sends a shudder of delight down her spine.

"Yes."

**_-xxx-_**

They fall through the door to his flat about an hour later, having stood in the queue waiting for a taxi for what had seemed like an eternity, the pair of them giggling and shushing one another like a pair of misbehaving teenagers.

"Tea?" he asks, heading straight for the kitchen.

"Please," she replies, slipping out of her heels with a sigh of relief.

"We really are getting old before our time, aren't we?" Matthew asks. "Leaving a club before midnight to come home and drink tea."

"Talk about living on the edge," laughs Mary. "It's a far cry from my university days."

Matthew smiles. "Bit of a wild child?"

"You could say that."

"Would that have anything to do with what Edith said earlier about your past?"

Mary freezes. "You heard that?" she asks and he nods in affirmation. "Umm... yes," she lies. She's not ready to tell him the truth - not here, not now... maybe not ever. "My love life has been anything but successful and I gave up on any sort of personal life a long time ago."

"Why?" he asks, sitting down beside her at the kitchen table, handing her a mug of tea and offering her some chocolate digestives. .

"My father's a judge," she says. "You have no idea how much pressure that puts me under. I went into law to try and make him happy, to make him proud of me... I was such a disappointment when I was younger that I just couldn't bare it anymore and knew that I had to do something to make it better. I've been so focused on working towards getting silk that this job is beginning to consume me... I don't have many friends, I can't remember the last time I showed interest in a man and that worked for me... then I met you and you've changed all that. I'm so confused, Matthew... you confuse me and I honestly don't know what to think or do anymore."

He reaches out and takes her hand in his. "I know you said that you have rules about this sort of thing, but I think we both know that things have changed between us."

"Matthew..."

"No, hear me out, please," he begs, tenderly tucking her hair back behind her ear with his free hand. "You're going to end up falling apart if you carry on like this. You need to relax, to have a life outside of work. I'm not suggesting some sort of full blown relationship, just that we spend some time together and see where things go from there."

"Keep it casual?"

"Keep it casual," he agrees. "I genuinely like you, Mary," he tells her, cringing as she realises he probably sounds like a lovesick teenager. "And I think... I think that you and I could be brilliant together."

Mary smiles and, unable to come up with anything to say (an incredibly rare occurrence), she leans in and gently brushes her lips against his.

"Can I stay here tonight... with you, I mean?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

******_-xxx-_**

She wakes before he does and considers slipping out and leaving a note. They're lying naked in his bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets and, suddenly, the full force of what they're doing hits her like a tonne of bricks. She knows it's foolish and most likely highly unprofessional, but then she remembers how he makes her feel when she's with him, how he's the (almost) perfect gentleman and how he makes her laugh. Her body feels like it's been consumed by fire under his touch and his kisses are almost like some sort of potent drug that leave her craving more. She rolls over and watches him as he sleeps - mouth slightly open, tendrils of blonde hair falling in front of his eyes and the gentle rise and fall of his chest - he looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and she can't help but think that maybe this wouldn't be such a bad idea afterall...

He stirs and stretches almost feline like as he begins to wake. His eyes flutter open and smiles after taking a moment to register that she's still here. "Good morning," he says groggily. "What time is it?"

"Just gone nine," Mary replies, amazed at the fact she doesn't find this awkward in the slightest.

"Do you want breakfast?"

Now it's her turn to smile. "Breakfast would be wonderful."

...No, this wouldn't be a bad idea at all.

* * *

_**Next Chapter: **Her past, present and future are all catching up with her in this one moment and it's all becoming too much to bear as she sinks to her knees, violently emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet with silent tears streaming down her face. She feels weak for admitting that she needs him right now, that she needs him to hold her close and tell her that everything's going to be alright..._


End file.
